Echoes of the Past

They bring the songs of an ancient world back to us.

Beautiful,

Haunting,

Inspiring.

An immortal image of what was,

And not what could've been.

Valuable,

Fragile.

They subtly tell us our own story,

Revive the voices of a world long gone.

Their very essence lingers in the air

No matter where one might be.

We were molded from their nimble fingers,

Our very being takes us back to them.

They resound through hallways,

Fill empty rooms.

They wrote the book of nature,

Firmly rooted in the earth's core,

Our core.

They are our virtue.

However, they are so frail, so breakable,

Yet we are not careful.

Once their music fades away,

Once the symphony of our soul is gone,

What is left?

Perhaps a breeze winding through paved alleys,

The slight creek of a door?

No, just ruins.